Autumn Beckons

The season of Water is coming.

Depending on where you live, it may already be there, but I live in central Texas, and in our climate the Summer relinquishes control begrudgingly.  Summer here is like Winter in other areas; the heat is so intense and oppressive that life grinds to a halt, people stay inside, the plants all die back and a torpid silence falls over Austin.  The city comes alive again at night, when temperatures drop to a more reasonable 90 to 95.  People actually die in the streets some days.  Winter here is a much more active time.

I've always thought that in the Summer in Texas all businesses should switch their hours to overnight instead of daylight.  Of course, night owl that I am, if I had my way it would be like that all year.

Gradually the heat is lessening, and we've finally had some rain.  You can feel the change in the air, the loosened grip.  There is life in the wind.  There is release.  Calling Autumn the season of Water is appropriate, in my tradition, on many levels, not the least of which is that Water comes as a welcome relief after months of parched grass and the Sun's baleful eye. 

I am a late Autumn baby; I was born at the tail end of Scorpio (where the stinger is) on November 19.  The months of October and November are my favorite time of year, and also the busiest for your average Witch; everything seems to gear up for Samhain, and immediately afterward there are the mainstream holidays (shudder).  My entire coven has birthdays ranging from the end of October to the end of January.  Three of us are Scorpios.  I also know plenty of other people born during the Fall.  It's a busy time, full of celebration and cake.

This year I find myself contemplating both the environmental and the personal effects of Water.  Looking at the larger Wheel, we can see that the harvest comes after a period of growth (or in our case scorching heat that slowly ripens and then bakes everything outside), and presages a period of relief.  Plans hatched in the cold of last Winter, begun in Spring, and brought to fullness as the Summer turned must now be reflected upon--did you accomplish everything we set out to?  Another year will be over with before you know it, and it will be time to start again.

Autumn is a time of reflection, but also one of letting go.  Water is the emotional element and often has a melancholy association, as it is connected with tears, with the cauldron of rebirth, and therefore with death and grief.  With Samhain being the Sabbat dedicated to death and the underworld, and with the year slowing down, we find our thoughts turn inward, and backward, facing both our own personal harvest and the remembrance of those things lost in the tide of the year.

This is the third year in a row I've lost a family member, and this year's was a particularly cruel blow, so I know that I will light at least one candle to the Beloved Dead at the end of October.  Meanwhile I turn my sight toward my own life, and I consider all the goals I set for 2006...and as usual, I seem unable to focus on success so much as on failure.  There are a lot of things I said I would do this year, or at least begin, that simply haven't happened.  While the year is not yet over, Autumn always brings with it a rush of almost desperate activity before the cold sets in, a sense that time is running out. 

This is the waning half of the year, and as with the waning Moon, there are some forms of magic that no longer feel appropriate.  Now is a time for release, for getting over it and letting go.  Ironically, although I was born during this time of year, this is the part of life I seem to have the most trouble with.  Like many people I cling to things that no longer serve me, or that hurt me, even to the point of self-delusion and eventual self-destruction. 

Why?  Is it a fear of death that drives us to hold on to everything we can, as if by gripping possessions and habits tightly we won't slip through the Veil?

An image comes to mind: a frazzled cartoon cat with his legs braced over a bathtub while his long-suffering human tries in vain to get him into the water.

Our popular culture reinforces this madness--there are so many things we need to buy!  There are so many material ways to silence the howling existential terror!  For $19.95,  immortality and a tight butt can all be yours!

Even for those of us with a definite idea about the afterlife, fear of death is in part a fear of the unknown; that fear drives us farther and farther from true spiritual unfolding, and from happiness.  Everything beautiful in life starts out as an unknown.

Loss is painful, of course, but we have the ability to give things up willingly rather than waiting for them to be ripped from our hands.  What is worse--loss or sacrifice?  Most people choose the former by default.

In order to receive, you have to give; it's the nature of the universe, and also good manners.  The harvest is typically thought of as a time of sacrifice.  What are you willing to sacrifice this Autumn for an abundant harvest in the next?

(If only someone had sacrificed the desire to remake The Wicker Man...)

So as the leaves begin to think of changing color, and the grocery store shelves begin to fill with Halloween candy, I look back at the year that is rapidly dwindling, and I choose first to honor the progress I've made, the good decisions, the slow but steady growth.  I choose also to do better from here on out, in as many ways as I can.  I choose not to be burdened by my history, no matter how long it takes to finally leave it behind. 

I hold the leaf of the year in one hand, watching as its vibrant green darkens to orange.  Then I lift it to the cooling wind and let it go. 

The problem with holding on to the past is that you only have two hands, and one is always busy with the present.  When something new and wonderful comes along, will you have a hand free to catch it?

Comments

[Michael Steinberg]

Beautifully said. Specially that last paragraph. As a Canadian and living much farther north, I have the gift of four very distinct seasons and this one is a very close second for me to Spring. All that green life sprouting up from the snow is life afirming.
And your comments on The Wicker Man remake... here here. I agree...

[Anituel]

I do so miss the rainy season in Pennsylvania! Though I must admit that it's quite beautiful here in Georgia this time of year. I had the joy of sitting out on the front porch and reading all through the steady rain today

[Micky Kubiak]

This is a beautiful piece of writing. It really helps me understand what Samhain and this time of year is all about. I have been thinking of performing some kind of ritual around the fact that I am having a midlife crisis. This time of year seems to support that type of energy--looking back, sifting through, evaluating, releasing, burying, grieving. I think, for me, it is The Death of the Maiden--i.e., my maidenhood. I feel I am becoming a woman, finally, even though I've been a wife and mother for over a year. And there is all this young woman stuff that I have to let go of--it wants to go.

I loved your idea that loss comes mostly because of our inability to sacrifice. We often know that something is coming to an end, but dig our heels in anyway. I know it's my ego that fears this change. My true nature thrives on it.

Happy Birthday and thank you for your work.

[Renee]

Wow I love the last sentence of this post. This is an amazing piece and rings so true deep within me. It is a time to embrace the present and look to the future and while the past serves as a lesson, it should not be something we grip so tight that we forget why we hold on to it. Blessings to you and your pen as you are who keeps me inspired. Merry Part (for now)